Playing Jax

Stewart began to panic when he wound up at what was obviously a motorcyclists’ hangout after taking a wrong turn on one of his infrequent outside forays. He approached a group of bikers checking out one guy’s new tattoo.

“Uh… excuse me. Hi, I’m lost. Can you please help me?” Stewart tried to hide his nervousness but he sounded more like a shy school boy than a confident young man. The men turned to stare at the intruder. Soon he was surrounded by big burly men who looked like any one of them could snap him in half with their pinkies if they so desired.

They started to taunt the thin lad, pushing him around and generally roughing him up. Stewart had no idea how he was going to get out of this mess. He was ready to accept that he was dead meat when the sea of men parted and a ruggedly handsome man, probably somewhere around ten years older than Stewart and obviously someone of standing in the club, made his way towards him.

“What’s going on?” He demanded as he looked Stewart over.

“We thought he might be a spy for the Feds. Like that guy before.”

“Him? A spy?” A murmur of agreement ran through the group. “Don’t make me laugh. Let him go.” The man commanded sternly. The man holding Stewart immediately let go, Stewart’s shirt now crumpled with specks of red showing on the white fabric. Other than a cut lip and a bloody nose, Stewart was fine and very thankful the man had come along when he did.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to come here. I lost my way while walking.”

Without responding, the man grabbed Stewart by the arm, making Stewart wince in pain from his strong grip. Now even more scared and nervous than before he wasn’t at all sure what would happen next. “Come with me.” He roughly commanded as he pulled on Stewart’s arm. He led Stewart into a garage and then into a room with a large table. The man sat down and motioned for Stewart to sit.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt2: There Goes the Neighbourhood

Throwing on some sweat pants and a cotton t-shirt I picked up Chapman's keys and went to leave, but something tugged at my subconscious, and a soft voice in my head told me take the notebook, shrugging I picked it up and left the house.

It had been the first time I'd been inside Chapman's house, even though we'd spoken many times; a big, strong guy kinda dwarfed me a bit and always seem to talk down to me with a 'grin of superiority'. He told me that he'd broken up with his wife soon after he moved in and since then he'd been living alone.

The heavy door swung open after I'd found the right key for the lock. Inside I was a little surprised, not the tidy well presented home I would have expected but a bit of a mess. Discarded workout clothes and a kit bag lay in the hall, in the bigger room there was a huge TV with a couple of takeaway cartons on the table. What looked like a protein drink half finished sat on the floor. In the kitchen the sink was full of unwashed plates and dishes, some cooked chicken still in the pan.

Tentatively approaching the bedroom, I slowly opened the door; the blinds were still closed so I couldn't see much only dark shapes. Flicking on the light surprised me further; It was completely different to the turmoil of the rest of the house, everything was clean, and in its place. A huge double bed with black satin sheets dominated the room, evident that Chapman thought he was a bit of a stud and needed an appropriate stage to impress the fact. There were huge mirrored doors opposite which led to his closet and a personal gym. There were a number of framed pictures on the dresser, mainly of Chapman posing in what looks like some kind of contest.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt1: A Year and a Day

RIIIING, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I turned over and looked at the clock, "6am? What the fuck?" I groaned and turned over.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

"THE FUCK?" it suddenly dawned on me that there was someone at the door. Throwing the sheets off I sat on the bed gathering my thoughts.

RIIIIIIING!

Looking out the window I tried to see who had disturbed my morning sleep but couldn't see anyone. RIIIIIING! "Who the hell is down there?"

A guy stepped back into my view, "Delivery for you sir!"

"Just put it down somewhere. I'll get it later," I groaned.

"No can do sir, needs a signature."

Letting out a groan, I pulled on some discarded shorts and made my way down the stairs. Yanking open the door revealed the culprit: a short stocky guy wearing a blue and red uniform grinned at me. Rolling my eyes, I frowned at him, and his plastic smile dropped a little as he handed me a box about eight inches square.

I was surprised when he unrolled a long sheet of paper, easily a couple of feet long. "Sign here sir." He pointed to a line right at the bottom. There were hundreds of names, and many didn't even appear to be from this country.

He thanked me heartily and shook my hand, and as I pulled away I felt a tingle creeping up my arm. His smile curled into something quite different as he left.

Still a little dazed by the whole experience, I put the package on the table and returned to bed. But as I slept a nightmare of giant, toothed beasts chased me through the darkness of never ending tunnels woke me with a start, and I had the feeling of an icy hand gripping my heart. Groaning, I rolled over and with a thump fell to the floor; then just as suddenly as it appeared the pain was gone.

Making my way to the kitchen, my eyes were drawn to the package. I glanced at the label. The text was blurred, and almost seemed to move. I rubbed my thumb across the label and snapped it away again, for it felt like something had just bitten me. A spot of blood bloomed from my thumb and dropped, hitting the surface of the label where it was absorbed almost instantly. The characters jumped and darted across the label and then pulled into focus; my name, my address. I gingerly turned the box on its side. The return address only had the name of some obscure building in New York, but as soon as I'd read the words they disappeared.

Caption This (23rd Sep)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

Seanday Extra Portion: Morning After

I turned over and groaned. My best friend was visiting me, and he'd insisted on going to a club. It was a hairy night, I'd tried to keep sober while Mark proved his worth downing drink after drink.

****

Light peeled through the curtains, bleeding through my eyelids. I groaned again and pulled the duvet over my head.

Something dredged its way through my mind: sunlight. What time was it?

I threw the duvet back and sat up; big mistake. I retched holding a hand to my mouth and leaned over the edge of the bed. There was a conveniently placed bucket: I used it.

Collapsing back into bed, I pushed my hands through my hair and holding my head desperately trying to stop the room spinning. I tried to think why I had this lousy hangover, I'd only had three drinks; had someone spiked them?

There was a noise from the other room, it cut through my mind like an axe. I groaned guessing it was Mark, slowly I pushed myself up. The smell from the bucket made me retch again, but it was dry. Getting to my feet, I stumbled towards the door my hands feeling my way, looking through squinted eyes.

Seanday Off: Take, take, take

I read the text and threw the mobile across the room. "Damn-it."

A quiet life, that's all I wanted, but everywhere I stopped people took it away.

It had been three months, long enough that I thought I'd be safe. But the text had told me that they were on the way. Someone had tipped them off, and I had a good idea who was responsible.

I'd been on the run; across the country. Each time I'd tried to make a home I'd get the call, giving me minutes to escape and run--again.

Even if I kept to myself, people would rat me out call the AGENCY. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, was it my colour? The way I dressed--I plucked at the yellow shirt I was wearing. Maybe they were just plain scared of me--I wasn't small, I looked after myself.

The mobile bleated again, and I retrieved it from the floor. "Fuck." I'd only had it for a few weeks, and now it was worthless. Whatever text came through was unreadable on the cracked screen.

Caption This (16th Sep)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

Seanday Reloaded: What’s up Son?

I walked over and gave Jack a fatherly hug pulling him in close to my heavy chest, but he pushed away.

“What's the matter son?”

Jack looked at me with a suspicious eye, “For a start my Dad never calls me son!”

“Ahh, I guess I should call you Jack then?”

“And he’s never hugged me in my life!” Jack mumbled

“Shit, really screwed it up for you eh?”

“Yeah kinda, took a while to get my dad to drink that stuff you know?”

“Yeah I know, kinda big commitment from me as well pulling on this heavy suit and becoming your dad.”

“I know, but my dad was shit and you got thrown out of your house by your parents. You know my dad would never have let you lived with me, now we’ve fixed both problems.”

Jack looked around and checked no one was around before pulling his dad in giving him a kiss.

Seanday Reloaded: Student Appropriation

You’re talking with your partner, Officers James. “Any idea what all this shit is about?” He shakes his head. “We almost had the drugs ring at that school busted, and now they’ve pulled us off the job for this Special Assignment.” You sigh.

James gives you an elbow the ribs, “You know any of these other guys?”

“I dunno, they’re not from our precinct.”



You you turn the corner into the large meeting room and see fellow officer McGill at the front and give him a nod, he stands there for a moment with his arms crossed. “Officers, less noise please, it will all become clear in a couple of minutes,” he claps his hands a couple of times. “GUYS! take your seats, you’re not at school now,” he pauses for a moment with a smile on his face and shakes his head.

Caption This (9th Sep)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

Another Thor

Loki suddenly appeared in my house.

“What the…,” Before I could finish my question he had whisked me off to someplace unknown.

My eyes went wide in amazement at the great hall bathed in golden moonlight I saw before me. The wonderful smell of jasmine on a warm summer night tickled my nose. Loki stood close by, a sly smile on his face as he seemed to watch me with a great deal of amusement.

“Welcome home, brother.” Brother? I wasn’t Loki’s brother. I was from Earth and he was an Asgardian. What did he mean by brother?

“Brother?” I questioned him, only to find the voice I heard was foreign to me: deeper, accented, and quite authoritative I was sure if it had come from someone other than myself at that particular moment. As my mind tried to make sense of all this I noticed I was now looking slightly down at him rather than looking up to him. Had he shrunk?

Just then a slight breeze wafted past, billowing a red cape around my body. Where had a cape come from? I stared down at myself. I was no longer dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I had on before. Instead I found myself clad in armor and maille that clung tightly to muscles that definitely weren’t mine. I brushed away a strand of long blonde hair hanging in my face. Wait… long blonde hair?? I was nearly bald and never had this color blonde hair. What had Loki done to me?

Seanday Off: Something Big

"Fuck this guy is hungry," Paul thought to himself, "I reckon I can get a good tip from this guy."

Paul was one of the escort agencies top men, easily earning over $2,000 a night. The agency had sent him a message telling him a young executive had asked for him specifically and doubled the fee if he could see him tonight. How could he refuse?

Paul arrived at the hotel, sure enough at the bar was a young executive immaculately presented in an expensive suit. Paul sat at the bar, and the guy leaned over. "You here to see me?" He asked.

Paul looked at the guy, he was probably no older than twenty-seven, his suit and shirt tailored to show off his muscular physique. Even his hair was perfectly crafted, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, I'm Paul Stealman. You called the agency," Paul replied.

"Perfect, my name is Jason," he replied studying Paul's build.

Paul followed Jason to the room, moments later Jason was naked, and Paul found himself admiring his body. Paul pulled his shirt and pants off, although in his mid thirties he was handsome and strong.

Jason walked over and looked up into Paul's eyes. "Big, strong, handsome, a perfect specimen," Jason whispered as he drew Paul into a deep kiss. Grasping Paul's neck Jason sat on the couch, Paul knelt at his feet.